TMNT: Morsels
by princessebee
Summary: A collection of short ficlets based on prompts sent to me by readers. A variety of characters, genres and verses will feature. Chapter 21: RaphxApril (2012) - G-rated!
1. Strip

_Over on my tumblr (dorkinhighheels) I occasionally invite people to send me a pairing and a prompt and I respond with a short fic. This is a collection of TMNT ficlets. There will be a variety of pairings, a range of genres and any number of TMNT verses will be included. Some of these are extremely racy and explicit (hence the M rating), and some are cute and fluffy, and some are a combination! All of these are very quickly written (in no longer than an hour) and not extensively edited so they are rough… but I hope you enjoy them! Reviews and concrit most welcome!_

* * *

_Loonilum prompted: __I'm not taking no for an answer. So, strip. " MikeyxAngel 3_

**ooo**

_Set within my 2k7verse_

"I'm not taking no for an answer. So, strip."

Angel folded her arms over her large brown breasts where they filled out the lacy red bra and quirked an eyebrow at Michelangelo who tried to look imposing.

"You're not exactly in a position to give orders, baby," she pointed out dryly.

Michelangelo's adorable scowl immediately snapped into a sheepish expression. He was flat on his shell, his head carefully propped up against folded pillows, his arms firmly tied to the bedposts.

"Heh heh," he chuckled, his baby blue eyes twinkling. "Strip if you love me?" he tried.

Grinning, Angel lowered herself to press against his plastron, pressing a lingering kiss to his wide mouth. "Oh I love you," she assured him. "That's why I'm gonna make you cum so hard you'll be blind for a week - when I'm good and ready."

Michelangelo whimpered as his wife slowly slid down the length of his body to where his erect cock jutted out between his thighs, dark with blood and glistening. Keeping her brown eyes fixed intently on his mesmerised face, she positioned her full breasts so that his cock pressed against the deep crevice of her cleavage, giving him a tantalising hint of how warm and soft it would feel for his dick to be enveloped between them.

"Jewel," he moaned needily and she giggled and pushed a lock black and green hair over her ear before lowering her head and running her tongue up the full length of his cock so that his hips thrust upwards and he groaned. She teased the sensitive tip with soft flutters of her tongue before slipping her lips over the tapered point and quickly whipping them off, causing a cascade of teasing sensation to flow maddeningly through him. She did this a few more times until he was sure he was going to explode from frustrated pleasure and then finally she took him into the velvet wet depths of her mouth and lowered her head down onto him as she began to attentively suck.


	2. Take It Off

_Anonymous prompted: "Take. This. Off. " raphril_

**ooo**

_Setting: April's at college, Raph's in her dorm room (her roommate must be away)_

"Take. This. Off" Raphael scowled as he made a grab for the red strip of material April had tied over her eyes. Guy couldn't even take a shower without his minx of a girlfriend making off with his gear!

April darted neatly out of the way, giggling. "Wouldn't you like to swap places tonight?" she teased, hovering just out of reach as he eyed her, squaring his shoulders. "Think of all the new things we could try!" Her eyes sparkled with merriment as he set his jaw and tried not to be distracted by how cute she looked.

"I'll count to three," he said warningly, and her eyes lit up. "Then I'm coming after ya. One."

April grinned, bounced on the balls of her feet, her eyes darting to the door, past him.

Raphael struggled to suppress his smirk, muscles tensed as he made ready to spring. "Two."

April began edging towards the door, Raphael turning on the spot without taking his eyes off of her.

"Three!"

April broke into a sprint, but Raphael was quicker, pouncing on her mere inches from the door way, one burly arm wrapping around her waist and the other around her chest, hauling her bodily into the air as she squealed in delighted terror and struggled as hard as she could, knowing it was futile. He carried her to the bed and threw her down while she shrieked with laughter, breathless and flushed. In an instant, he was on top of her, grasping her wrists and pinning her hands to the mattress above her head. He held her delicate wrists down with one massive hand, then twitched the mask from her face with the other.

"I'll take that, thanks," he grunted, then grinned wickedly as she bit her lip and gazed giddily up into his bare face. "Let's put it to better use, huh?"

And with that he began wrapping it around her wrists, binding them tightly. April moaned and bucked her hips up against him in a show of protest, but it was a half-assed effort that only made his very full tail throb harder and if her flushed cheeks and shining eyes were anything to go by, April was doing just fine.

He finished tying her hands with his mask then sat up, straddling her, surveying her stretched out body beneath him, braless, her erect nipples straining against the thin cotton of her tank top, her chest heaving as she breathed hard in arousal, the little strip of belly between her tank and the pajama shorts she was wearing, her hips disappearing between his muscular thighs. She lay there and watched him with her lower lip worried excitedly between her teeth, her blue eyes lidded and coy, her hands trussed up above her head. His tail throbbed urgently as he trailed his gaze over her sweet freckled cheeks and cleavage, almost unconsciously licking his lips as his eyes fell on her cotton-clad pubis, just beneath his groin.

"So whaddya got to say for yourself, thief?" he demanded, his palms itching to cup over those lovely breasts, yearning to push up that tank top and bare their peaks to his eager mouth.

"I wear it better!" she said cheekily and he narrowed his eyes at her, sat back and quickly flipped her over, across his knee as she laughed triumphantly only to gasp when he roughly grasped her ass with one hand.

"That a fact?" he hissed, loosening his grip and teasingly stroking the soft, round mound of her buttock, knowing the soft material of her shorts would elicit the most teasing friction on her sensitive skin, particularly where the seam disappeared between her legs.

"You know it is," she replied breathlessly, her spine arching as she pushed her ass into his hand.

"Hrm." He grasped the waistband of her shorts and yanked them down, baring her creamy flesh. She squealed and again made a pretence of protest, wiggling around on his lap in a delightful way. He shifted so that his thighs were further apart, accommodating his stiff tail as the head of his cock began to emerge, teasingly tracing the crevice of her buttocks with one thick finger, dipping it gently between her thighs. She was wet as fuck, the folds of her pussy wonderfully slippery to his touch and she groaned at the contact. He glanced up at her face, pressed to the mattress and half hidden by one arm, smirked to see the blush that stained her freckled cheek.

He withdrew his finger and grasped one cheek of her ass, jiggled it, his cock hardening still further at the sight. Typically, he couldn't think of a fucking smart thing to say, not with all the blood in his body drained straight into his groin, but he figured words were cheap at a time like this. When it came to teaching trouble making girlfriends to make off with his ninja mask, it was actions that counted.

And with that, he began to spank her, every ecstatic little squeal she made only spurring his hand.


	3. Stay

_Anonymous prompted: LeoxApril - "Stay with me", please?_

**ooo**

_SAINWverse, inspired by sleepingseeker and her wonderful fic, __Aftermath_

"Stay with me."

Leonardo turns to look at her from behind the tinted lenses he always wears now to protect his damaged eyes.

April is seated at the battered, scarred table, her head bowed. The greying locks of her hair hang on cheeks that were once round but are now sharpened from years of too little food, too much grief. Her mouth is set in a sorrowful line. He cannot see her eyes.

He knows he should go. That to stay only to sate the selfish craving that beats below his plastron is wrong.

But it is a different world they live in now. One where ideas like honour and duty and sacrifice have little relevance, and even less meaning. And he has spent so many nights alone.

When he places a great, calloused hand over her own careworn ones, she raises her head and looks up at him, and the clouded storm of her eyes breaks his heart. Once, those eyes were so vibrant, so alive, so joyous, sparkling with love and affection, intelligence and passion. Now they are so sorrowful, so dim and so very, very tired. His heart is a stone in his chest as he lifts his hand and gently strokes her cheek with one rough finger.

"Yes," is all that he says,

And for a moment, a brief, dazzling moment, like the sun twinkling through the noxious polluted skies of this terrible reality, her eyes clear and the April he remembers glimmers there, beautiful, brilliant and perfect.

It is enough for him to grasp her hand and yank her to him, wrapping aching arms around her as their lips mash together and they kiss with furious longing as they strive desperately to comfort each other in the only way that seems left to them, two lost souls, broken-hearted and betrayed in a world that has forsaken them and everything they ever believed in. It doesn't matter that her eyes had darkened again before he had even grabbed her. In that short, heart-wrenching moment he had seen how badly she needed him, and that had been enough to quiet his guilt - for now.

She kisses him with hopeless yearning, her fingertips digging into the hard muscle of his arms as he frantically undoes her jeans and pushes them down. Even with the corded muscle she has doggedly acquired through relentless calisthenics and whatever protein she can find, she is too thin now. Her body is hard, her skin is dry, but to him she still feels fragile as glass as he grasps her hips and lifts her onto the table.

They continue to kiss, fervent and frenzied, as though they dare not even stop to catch their breath, in case they come to their senses. For a moment, he thinks he should slow down, caress her, kiss her all over until her body sings with pleasure, that he should savour this as though they are making love. But she has grasped the rim of his carapace, is urging him forward, sobbing hoarsely as they kiss, her thin chest heaving against his plastron, so instead he silences the remnants of sentiment, cups her buttocks in his hand and thrusts into her.

April wraps his arms around his neck as he begins to move, the ropey muscle of his legs tensed as they anchor him while he thrusts, hard and deep within her. His hands move from her buttocks to wrap around her back, holding her as close and tight as he can as their wretched tears mingle between their lips. She is gasping and thrusting back against him, holding onto him as if he is the only thing that is keeping her anchored to the world, as though, without this desperate union, she might simply drift away, to be lost as Donatello had been. Soon, the hot torrent of ecstasy is spreading through him like a fire, blistering away the grief and the anguish, smothering all his bitterness and resentment beneath a burning deluge of bliss. The remnants of his conscious mind knows it won't last, but it doesn't matter, not right then, not when all is sensation and savage instinct, not when, for a little while, he can simply forget.


	4. Graduation

_Makeup-n-turtles prompted: Raphril first time_

**ooo**

_ok so I ended up writing two bits for this… one just basically kinda fluffy setup and then I was all… why fluffy setup… why not hardcore smut… so then I wrote some hardocre smut._

_I guess you can see them as companion pieces, with the smut taking place later that night…_

"I'm real proud of you," he says to her with a fond smirk, lifting a hand so that his huge fingers can tug gently on the tassel that dangles from her cap.

"Four years of my life I'll never get back," she downplays her graduation with a roll of her eyes, but he isn't fooled. She's pretty darn pleased with herself.

Their eyes lock and their little grins fade. "D'you wish you coulda been there?" she asks him, and just a note of wistfulness creeps into her voice as she regards him from her clear blue eyes.

He chuffs, shrugs with exaggerated bravado. "I'm here now, aren't I?" Then his mouth twists in a devilish grin as he steps over to the refrigerator and yanks the door open. "And we're over twenty one."

He reaches into the fridge and pulls out a bottle of champagne, looking as triumphant as if he had pulled a freakin' rabbit out of a hat.

April folds her arms over her robes and musters as unimpressed a look as she can. "And how exactly did you get your hands on that, Raph?"

"Casey hooked me up," he explains, ripping off the foil and popping the cork. Champagne fizzed and she hurried to fetch a couple of glasses from the kitchen cabinet.

He toasted her with a proud smile and she felt her cheeks flush as she took the first sip of the deliciously tart nectar. Raphael didn't know it yet, but she was ready to start the rest of her life - beginning with finally taking their relationship to the next level.

**ooo**

"Unnh" April groans as Raphael pushes her legs further apart so that she feels the long muscles of her thighs burn, his rough hands gripping her knees in an unbreakable hold and no matter the strength honed into her legs through long hours of martial arts training, she is no match for the power his rippling arms contain.

He thrusts deeper into her, deeper and harder and she gasps and bites down hard on the thick muscle of his shoulder. His cock has stretched her so wide she can't help but dimly wonder, through the fog of sensation, if she'll ever be the same again.

Oh god, she knew it would be intense, but somehow she never anticipated this. This fusion of skin and sweat, the rigid press of his plastron into her hips, the heat of his breath on her skin, unrelenting muscle pinning her deliriously into place, the demanding urgency of his thrusts and, of course, the thick and engorged bulk of his massive cock, sliding in an out of her, so big that even as wet as she is the friction of it sliding against her inner walls is almost more than she can bear. She can feel the way each push drags her pussy lips in, each pull thrusts them back out, and when he shifts a hand from her knee to push one soft, creamy breast up into his mouth, sucks hard on the nipple so that the tingle of it races right down into her clit, she moans again and braces an ankle against his carapace.

"You're so fuckin' hot," he breathes wetly into her neck, but she can't say a word back because he is thrusting ever harder into her and a rush of carnal stimulation floods her, an intoxicating intermingle of pain and pleasure that leaves her confused and gasping and clinging to him as he pumps her with mindless fervor and her clit swells and craves more attention than the brisk, taunting swipes his plastron affords.

"Fuck yeah, Raph," she whimpers against his cheek. "I want your tongue on my pussy after this."

He speeds up once more, then lets out a groan that is more of a wail as he abruptly reaches his end, and she can feel the heavy throb of his cock as he pumps load after load inside her, his teeth imprinting her neck with fierce devotion and she knows it won't matter how clueless he'll be about the whole thing, she thinks she'll cum almost as soon as his tongue hits her clit.


	5. Tease

_Loonilum prompted: "__You're teasing me . " Raph and Amber! If you don't mind of course ;)_

**ooo**

"You're teasing me."

Amber glanced at him with lidded eyes, cigarette dangling from her lips.

"You wish."

Raphael smirked a little, cracked his knuckles against each other. "Whaddya call that, then?" He gestured at her with the flick of a hand and she glanced down at herself, one eyebrow cocked.

She was wearing nothing but a miniscule pair of denim cut-offs, her long red hair concealing her breasts, every other inch of her heavily freckled flesh on display.

"So what?" She plucked the cigarette from her mouth and exhaled, looking at him with dry enquiry. "Just cos you got a hard on doesn't mean I meant you to."

He rolled his eyes, flicked his gaze back to the boxing match he was watching. "Whatever."

She leaned up against the door frame, just in the peripheral of his good eye and watched him, smoking languidly, one skinny ankle crossed over the other. He went on watching the game, studiously ignoring her. After a moment, his jaw tensed, and she grinned.

"You know, if you got a hard on, we might as well put it to good use."

He scowled at her. "Fuckin' tease."

She scoffed and turned on her heel, disappearing in the bedroom with a wiggle of her hips, her lean, freckled back temptingly bare.

After a moment of grinding his teeth, he got up and followed her.


	6. Kiss

_Silvarbelle prompted: __"Firsts:: RaphxAngel, first kiss. =D_

**ooo**

_This is set in 2k12, and Angel is inspired by an amazing artist, ActionKiddy, and her take on a 2k12 Angel._

"Put me down, Raph, I hadn't finished with those punks!" She beat her fists against his shell as he pelted across the rooftops, her wiggling form slung securely his shoulder.

He was tempted to swat her rear end, but grit his teeth and restrained himself.

"Damnit, Angel, don't you know better than to go up against a mob of Foot by yourself?" he growled at her, judging they had finally eluded the pursuers in numbers great enough even Raphael conceded he couldn't take them all on at once by himself and coming to a halt, tossing her unceremoniously onto the dusty rooftop.

She scowled at him from where she splayed, that lock of purple hair falling into her flashing violet eyes, her brown skin flushed with rage and resentment. He felt a little tug on his heart and stubbornly folded his arms across his plastron, refusing to back down an inch, no matter how weak-kneed she made him feel.

"Whaddya know, ya big dumb lug?" she snapped back, springing to her feet and dusting off the ripped leggings she wore. "I had everything under control."

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Right. So I guess the part where you were cornered and about to be carved into mincemeat was all part of your master plan?"

"Got it in one, buster," she folded her arms pertly and stuck her nose in the air, her infuriating propensity to deny any wrongness driving him nuts as it always did, even as her defiance simultaneously fired him with admiration.

"Well, next time, I'll just keep going in that case, see how well that works out for ya," he drawled as she stuck her tongue out at him. Then he plucked her baseball cap from where he'd wedged it under his belt, tossed it to her with a casual flick of the wrist. "Here's your stupid precious hat."

She caught it with a look of astonishment and he realised she hadn't seen him retrieve it for her, that she thought it was gone. He doesn't even know why he'd bothered - it had been a moment of risk he could ill-afford, but then again he liked that kinda thing and he knew how much she loved that dumb cap.

"You're welcome," he said with another eyeroll after she just stared at the cap in her hands for a long moment, blinking disbelievingly. "Now forget it if you expect me to walk you home as well as save your ass tonight - I'm already late and _mpfhwww_!"

In two steps, Angel had bounded to his side, flung her arms around his neck and pressed her brown lips to his mouth. He barely had time to register he was being kissed by a girl for the first time in his life before he felt a hot flush roar up through his body and boil in his cheeks just as his knees buckled and every inch of him tingled in the wake of the warm, soft touch of that lovely mouth against his own. Raphael had always thought kissing was some dumb, human thing but he couldn't deny he'd been curious. After all, how could he not be when kissing was _everywhere_. He never could've expected it could feel so - so sweet though.

As Angel drew away, grinning up at him with devilish mischief, he could only gape at her, still flushed, still tingling, and realised he wanted more.

"So that's how to get you to shut up," she said triumphantly. "I'll remember that. Walk me home?" She stuck her hand out towards his and cocked her head coquettishly, and dumbly he nodded, and took it.


	7. Satisfaction

_Bloodyredpancakes prompted: __Leorai, 2k12 " What do you want to do to me? " (*blows a kiss your way xx)_

**ooo**

_21 years old… imagine a futureverse where Karai never turned on Shredder. **THIS CONTAINS ROUGH, CONSENSUAL BDSM AND MAY BE UPSETTING FOR SOME**_

'What do you want to do to me?' Karai was breathless as she asked, her chest heaving, her chin uplifted - not in pride, but in defeat. Leonardo's blade was poised at her neck. The slightest move, and it would glide through her jugular like the wind parting reeds.

Leonardo stepped back, sheathed his sword in its scabbard once more, gazing furiously down at her where she knelt by his feet.

This was the rules of their little game: winner takes all. The loser must submit without question or protest. It was a dangerously intoxicating arrangement, and she knew it required more trust than either of them were ever willing to admit they had in each other.

A little thrill ran through her at sight of the hardened glitter in his eye. She had been deliberately provocative that evening, pushing his buttons with taunting words and techniques that bordered on the dirty. She had felt lately as though she had a great snake coiled inside her, simply waiting to strike, and had been prowling the night in search of something upon which to unleash this frustrated fury when she had come upon him, and seen at once from the look in his eye that he sought release as well.

Leonardo wasn't yet able to as easily give into the dark urges within him as she was. She knew he'd need a little prompting. Because tonight she wasn't going to be satisfied with tender caresses and loving words. Tonight, she needed her prince.

Leonardo stepped up in front of her, and she gazed up at him boldly, defiantly, knowing her refusal to bow her head would only stoke his rageful lust all the more. A great, three-fingered hand wrested roughly in her hair and she gasped as he wrenched her head back, then cupped her face hard with his other hand, pushing her cheeks in so that her lips pursed outwards. It was a humiliating attitude and she allowed the fury of resentment to flare in her eye and the merest smirk flickered at the corner of his mouth before he kissed her viciously.

She kissed him back for a second, then bit him hard. He hissed, stepped back, then slapped her lightly across the face, making her gasp even as a thousand prickles ran across her flesh, hardening her nipples and tingling between her thighs. _Finally_. She had been trying for so long now to make him understand this is what she wanted, what she needed. That the rougher he got, the more freedom he gave her to unleash the torrent of conflicted emotion that ever raged within her.

She turned her face back towards him, her lips wet and her eyes blazing with desire. He stood astride to allow his thick, dark cock to fully emerge and she couldn't help licking her lips deliberately, holding his gaze the whole while.

Once again he took rough grasp of her hair, holding her head firmly in place and then pushed his cock inbetween her lips, stretching her mouth open wide to accommodate him. Karai choked and gasped a little as he clutched her head with both hands and began to vigorously thrust, fucking her face with cruel purpose. Desperately she clutched at his thighs; though his powerful hands held her easily still, the feeling of those long, hard muscles beneath her grip helped anchor her as he savagely used her mouth for his own selfish pleasure.

Karai inhaled deep through her nose, shut her eyes and simply submitted to his will, the tapered point of his cock nudging into her throat with every thrust, the feel of his shaft as it slid between her lips slippery and hard, his grip on her head firm. This is what she'd needed! To be taken and used by him, her enemy, her love, her prince. Her whole body hummed with desire, with bliss as his cock drove into the soft, wet hole of her mouth and she wondered if he would strip her bare and fuck her as well, or if he would finish this way and deny her her own release… she couldn't resist a perverse twist of titillation at the thought, even though she knew the frustration would be unbearable.

Karai opened her dark eyes and gazed serenely up into Leonardo's blue ones, allowing him to see how completely and utterly she gave herself to him. He hissed in through his teeth, and his thrusts sped up, positively hammering into her swollen mouth now, her saliva mingling with his natural lubrication, her lips burning from the friction, her jaw aching, but loving every second of his furious passion. Their gazes were locked, neither could look away, and Karai knew that, however this ended, she would go home satisfied.


	8. Cream or Chocolate

_Anonymous prompted: Raphril "whipped cream or chocolate?"_

**ooo**

_Contains female objectification._

"Whipped cream or chocolate?"

He stared at her, jaw dangling, her words not making any sense to his ears.

"Raph?" she repeated, one red eyebrow cocked in response to his gape-mouthed staring, one hand on her hip.

"Huh?" was all he could manage and she rolled her eyes.

"I asked, did you want whipped cream, or chocolate?"

"Uhhh - " he worked his jaw for a moment as the words slowly penetrated his spring-fogged brain. Truthfully, he'd been lost in admiration of how the shape of her ass and thighs flashed beneath her sweat pants as she moved about the kitchen, stacking the dishwasher and reaching up on tippy toes to pull a couple of bowls from a cupboard, her braless breasts jiggling a little as she dropped back onto her heels. The undulating movement of her lithely curvy physique was hypnotic in his current state and he'd been unable to drag his gaze away from her, even though he knew at any moment she could glance over and bust him in the act of outright ogling. "… both?" he finished uncertainly, as he noticed her nipples straining at the fabric of her thin tank. Fuuuuuuuh…

A coy smirk sidled up April's adorable freckled face. "You got it, buster."

The next thing he knew, April was grasping the bottom of her tank top and tugging it up and over her head and all he could do was stare, dry-mouthed, as her small, creamy breasts bounced free of the restraining garment as she wrested it off, tossing it away with wicked glee.

Raphael tried to say something, but the words just gurgled in his throat even as his tail throbbed agonisingly between his thighs.

April grasped the waistband of her sweatpants next and shimmied them down over her hips where they pooled at her ankles and she stepped free of them and kicked them aside, the jiggle of her toned thighs mesmerising to his hormone-intoxicated senses, the strip of red hair on her mound utterly captivating as she began to saunter towards him, her slim hips swaying, her lovely breasts bouncing. He could see the soft flushed lips of her pussy between her thighs as she drew up to him and his cock nudged insistently at his cloaca, begging to be unleashed.

April stepped up onto the couch, a foot either side of his thighs, her legs spread just enough that he could see the slick, intricate folds of her sweet cunt as she lifted the can of whipped cream and squirted a fluffy jet of it right over the inviting sight, followed next by a generous dollop of chocolate sauce from the bottle she held in her other hand. She let both treats drop to the floor, stroked the dome of his green skull with her fingertips while he swallowed hard and gazed up at her with the yearning desperation of a starving man, then angled her hips towards his face.

"C'mon then," she purred lasciviously. "Eat up."

He didn't need further encouragement, his lust driving him forward in a roaring fog of ecstatic anticipation until his wide, huge tongue delved straight through the soft mounds of cream and sticky chocolate, right between the sweet halves of her lips and he licked upwards in one amorous, groaning sweep. April moaned and her grip tightened on his skull as he lowered his head and licked her again, his massive tongue gathering up the mixture of cream and chocolate, underscored with the intoxicating flavour of her feminine flesh, his nostrils suffused with the tantalisingly mingled aromas so that he felt drunk on them.

"Fuck, Raph," she groaned and lifted a foot onto the armrest, further exposing herself to his questing tongue. "Yeah, lick me good."

He couldn't help it, his huge hand stole up between her thighs, one thick digit probing at the wet entrance to her hot depths as he continued to lick and flick his tongue over her clit. The sloppy heat of her sent a jolt or desire racketing right through his body to where his cock strained at the puckered opening of his cloaca and he couldn't keep it in anymore; it slid out and promptly swelled to full size, its purple length so flushed with blood it was nearly black. He could just imagine how good that sweet little cunt was going to feel enveloping him and just as April's whimpers and moans seemed to be reaching their feverpitch, he grasped hold of her hips and tugged her down onto his lap.

"Raph!" she gasped, a little shocked, a little alarmed, a lot excited, her slim hands falling to grasp his taut shoulders, her nails biting into the hard muscle as the tapered tip of his cock slid between her swollen folds, directly towards its goal. "Raph!" she choked as his mouth found a nipple, tugged on it and he felt the spasming clench of her inner muscles as she stretched deliriously around his cock as it eagerly pushed inside her. Oh fuck, it was every bit as mind-blowingly incredible as he thought it would be, suffusing his body with a scorching ecstasy that caused spots to swim before his eyes.

"Raph!" April cried again, but this time she just sounded pissed off and he blinked rapidly and shook his head, his vision slowly clearing to reveal April in the door way of the kitchen, still fully dressed and glaring at him, arms now folded across her chest.

"Huh?" he heard himself say, his cheeks flushed hot and his tail uncomfortably full.

She sighed furiously and rolled her eyes again. "It's bad enough the others all ditched me tonight, but I'd really rather you didn't pretend you wanted to be here if you can't even pay attention when I'm talking to you!"

"I wanna be here!" he stammered, squeezing his thighs together though it painfully crushed his tail against the couch cushions. "Sorry - just - tired - I guess."

She continued to glare at him with a pout twisting her pretty pink lips and he fought - fuck but he fought - not to imaging them wrapping around his dick. "So - can you just tell me then - whipped cream or chocolate on your pie?"


	9. Score

_Risquesno prompted: __Raphril - "Get your ass over here."_

**ooo**

"Get your ass over here!"

She cocked a hip to the side, a hand fisted on it, gave him her most contemptuous stare.

He stood glowering in a corner of the dojo, sweat pouring off of him, plastron heaving. She was panting too, her fair skin flushed from exertion and glowing, but still she preened.

"That's three to me," she said, nonchalantly examining the nails of one hand. "Wow, you're slipping in your old age, Raph."

He narrowed his eyes at her and growled. At twenty-two, he was hardly "old", but he hadn't counted on what a dedicated year of intensive martial arts training in Japan could do for her, or how furiously she would throw herself into the fight. To say nothing of being unable to anticipate how easily distracted he'd be by the long lean muscles of her body, the smooth and supple execution of flawless technique, the triumphant way her features lit up as she took every opening she got.

Plus, y'know, it had been a _year_.

Excuse him for thinking the first thing she'd suggest they do together when she got back would be something other than sparring.

"I'm goin' easy on ya," he snapped. It wasn't entirely untrue, surely? His mind wasn't totally focused after all. How could it be when her sweat- drenched sports bra so prominently displayed the rigid peak of her erect nipples, when her leggings so tightly hugged her thighs, revealing the v-shaped outline of her groin to tantalising effect. Not to mention how it smoothly clung to every curve of her ass. And it had been a whole goddamn year with nothing but increasingly steamy skype sessions to get him through. "And it's best outta eight and I've still got two to me. So get your ass over here and let's go."

Her pretty face still fixed with that infuriatingly contemptuous sneer, she sauntered to the middle of the mat and stood opposite him as he readied his stance and glared at her, willing himself not to be distracted by how bright her blue eyes were, or the trickle of sweat that led into the depths of her cleavage.

They bowed and it was on. He concentrated his focus, and permitted nothing but the wholehearted embrace of the fight to occupy his mind, she ceasing to be a tempting distraction of feminine charms and becoming only an enemy he must overcome.

It worked. He pinned her quickly, bringing them to a draw, and she bounded to her feet with a thunderous scowl, clearly determined to win. But he was flush now, not just with victory but with the reward victory could bring. Not wanting it to seem like he had only one thing on his mind after she had returned, he had agreed to spar with her, but being in close proximity to her body like this, watching it stretch and flex, the grunts and groans that filled the air as their bodies intertwined in complex strikes - it was causing a frustration to rise in him that abruptly seemed only to sharpen his focus rather than distract it, animal instinct taking over and mingling with his highly honed warrior's skills. She was not just an enemy now - she was a conquest.

She put up a terrific fight, but ultimately - he wanted it more. Wanted her more.

This time when he pinned her, he did not let go, and however strong and skilled she was as a fighter, she was still no match for the sheer power of his hands holding her arms easily against the mat. She struggled a moment and thrust up against him, trying to throw him off with her lower body, but he wouldn't budge and she gave him as fierce a glower as she could manage, her breasts heaving as she panted, her cheeks all red with her mussed hair adorable in her eyes.

"It's not over yet, Raph!" she snapped at him.

"Yeah it is," he muttered, as all the blood in his body rushed abruptly to his groin. "Best ya could hope for is a draw."

She pouted furiously and wiggled around below him, her groin tantalisingly rubbing against his lower plastron. "Best _you_ could hope for, you mean."

"Whatever you say," he said hoarsely, unable to think of a witty retort. Fuck, he wasn't even going to be able to _stand_ upright at the moment - he was practically light-headed and his tail was throbbing urgently. He slid a knee between her thighs and pushed them apart, his swollen tail suddenly exposed to the humid air between them, his sensitive cloaca tingling. April continued panting, she even tensed her legs in a show of resistance, but he wasn't fooled. She wasn't winded, not anymore, and the powerfully intoxicating scent that suffused his nostrils as her legs split apart was like a lure to the instinct-driven reptile that lurked at the back of his brain. Her eyes were glittering deeply, her lips parted as she stared up at him through lowered lashes, but still she furrowed her brows and struggled ineffectually against his grip.

He braced one powerful forearm across her shoulders, holding her down, then grasped the neck of her bra and tugged it down to expose an erect and slightly damp nipple.

"That's cheating," she moaned desperately as his mouth closed around it, the texture of hot, soft flesh against his tongue prompting his dick to finally slide from its sheath, swelling to full erection as it was released, hard as rock.

Again, April thrust up in a hilariously blatant pretence of resistance, even as her throaty moans echoed in his ear cavities and her hands gripped his shoulders and tugged him towards her and for the first time it occurred to Raphael that this had been her plan all along - drive him crazy with lust, drive herself mad with waiting. He nipped and flickered his tongue against her nipple and her grip on him tightened. He knew that when she was horny enough just toying with her nipples like this, softly and slowly, could be enough all on its own to bring her to climax and the quivering tenseness of her body beneath him indicated it was a high possibility right then.

The tip of his cock made contact with the thin cotton that shielded her pussy and they both groaned loudly with the torture of it. It was so delicious he did it again, then again, gently bumping his swollen cock against the damp material that impeded him, the tormenting hint of the deep, snug valley concealed beneath making him feel like he would lose his mind with desire as every inch of his shaft vibrated with the longing to plunge deep within her, the empty air that played along its sensitised length only further agony.

"Say you want it," he panted, lifting his head from her breast to stare hotly down into her flushed face.

She glared at him defiantly. "Admit you forfeit."

He groaned, squeezed his eyes shut and she rocked her hips upwards so that he felt the dangerous throb echo along his shaft. Fuck, no, after a year he was well and truly over cumming all over himself.

"Okay," he grunted through gritted teeth.

"Okay," she whimpered helplessly, and then he was grasping the waist band of her leggings and wrenching them down. She wiggled around to help him, the cotton maddeningly sticking to her sweaty flesh. He managed to get one leg out, after a brief wrestle where it caught around her ankle. He pushed her one-bared thigh to the side and churred loudly when his desperate cock slid through the heavenly wet folds of her swollen pussy.

April's back arched and she moaned to feel it and as he looked down at her, the lip caught between her teeth, the little furrow between her brows, the blush beneath her freckles and her fluttering lashes, he couldn't resist - even though he could hardly wait a moment longer - rubbing the tapered tip of his dick slowly, carefully against her clit.

April shuddered all over and sharply inhaled and he quickly pushed inside her as the convulsions of her orgasm began, her tight sheath rapidly clenching around him as her cries filled the dojo. After all this time, it was mind-blowing bliss and his vision swam as sheer euphoria encased his cock. He began thrusting, hard and fast, hooking his arms below April's knees so he could delve as deeply as was possible and April whimpered and moaned even as her pussy continued to twitch around him.

It didn't take long. He slumped down on her as his climax gripped him in ferocious pulses of pure rapture and he pumped what felt like the biggest load of his life deep inside her. April wrapped her arms around his neck and panted into his neck, trembling against his plastron as he rode out the tidal wave of his orgasm.

When it ebbed to a reluctant halt he lifted himself onto shaky forearms and finally kissed her and she sighed sweetly into his mouth and cupped the back of his head in her hands.

"You planned this whole thing, didn'tcha?" he said when the kiss paused.

In response, she burst out laughing, her blue eyes sparkling merrily, fingertips pressed coyly against her mouth. He tried his best to look pissed off, but considering that had been one of the most intense fucks of his life, he wasn't quite able to muster the requisite emotion to be convincing and found himself suppressing a grin instead.

April reached up and kissed him again, then pinched his cheek playfully. "Gotcha," she grinned.


	10. Teasing

_Nothing-but-treble-12 prompted: For the ficlet meme: Leo and April, "You're teasing me."_

**ooo**

_SAINWverse._

"You're teasing me."

He was so serious about it, she couldn't help but laugh. It was a strange sound to echo off the cracked and crumbling walls, their bleak surroundings turning the cry of joy into a mocking cackle that made her skin prickle.

Leonardo's scarred face, startlingly vulnerable without the dark glasses he always wore beyond the confines of this dank little sanctuary they had carved out for themselves, gazed at her solemnly as she dipped the rag back into the bucket of lukewarm water. The oily surface flickered with iridescence as she squeezed the rag out, but it was the cleanest water she'd been able to find and even though it was a futile task, it felt good to bathe. It was such a normal thing to do, in a world where normal things had become painfully rare, fleeting pleasures that came upon them too fast, too unexpectedly, and then were gone again before they could be fully appreciated, leaving behind only a yearning memory. Who could ever have anticipated that the rays of the sun, once presumed so constant, could feel so much like a kiss on her deprived cheeks? Or that moments later, when it was obscured again by the toxic darkness, she would feel herself wilt, the lingering warmth all too quickly fading as she strove desperately to commit it to memory, to recall in quiet moments that never satisfied, or comforted, or did anything at all but make her heart ache.

She lifted the rag back to her breasts, feeling the tender flesh softly wobble as she washed them, ran it under her arms then over them, the air cool on her wet skin. Leonardo continued to watch from the pile of ragged blankets they used as a bed, his gaze tracing the lean curves of her battle-hardened figure. She had not intended to tease him, but the way he watched her now made her cheeks flush and her nipples pricked in a way that had nothing to do with her chilled skin. It had been so long since she had been made so aware of her femininity, what vestiges remained beneath the scars that littered her once butter-soft flesh, and the sinewy toughness of her malnourished body, the roughness of her hair and the weary sadness etched into her face. She knew it was ridiculous: they were in a burnt out shell of an apartment, and she sat on an old stool and washed herself with a tatty rag and cold, oily water, but somehow, beneath his gaze, she felt beautiful again, sensual. She'd forgotten how it felt to be admired and the foolish heart of her enjoyed it.

Leonardo got up from their makeshift bed and she couldn't help the catch in her breath at the fluid movement, the shift of his powerful thigh muscles as he approached her. She didn't look up at him as he drew to her side, but every inch of her tingled at his proximity and she felt her pulse quicken. His hand reached out and closed around hers, gently taking the rag away and her breasts rose and fell as her breathing increased. He knelt in front of her, gazing at her intently as he dipped the rag into the water and then began to smooth and rub it over her skin, following its path with burning kisses that chased away the chill.

April sighed, bit her lip, her spine arching as Leonardo's mouth moved hotly over her breasts, down her belly and over the jut of her hipbone, the rag softly sweeping over her flesh in a way that made her shiver. She parted her legs for him wantonly as the rising desire flared in her loins, the aching need to be touched there stoked by the teasing, adoring trail of the kisses he pressed so tenderly against her body. Each scalding kiss felt like the glow of the sun, warming her flesh until she seemed to bloom, until she was nothing more than a being of golden bliss basking beneath his attention, shivering with every wave of pleasure as his head moved between her thighs. With his light to bolster her, she would not fade.


	11. Illicit Rendezvous

_Anonymous prompted: __Xever/Raph "what took you so long"_

**ooo**

"What took you so long?" The lanky Afro-Brazilian grinned from his place leaning up against the wall, his brilliant white teeth glittering in the low light of the abandoned warehouse.

Raphael dropped from the ceiling rafters, landing silently on the cement floor. "Hey, had to sneak out. Y'know how hard it is to go anywhere undiscovered when you live in a house of ninjas?" His green face wore a cocky expression, the corner of his mouth tugged up in a little smirk as he strode over to where Xever waited for him.

It had been years since it had all passed - since the war with the Shredder had come to its final bitter end, since Karai had been freed and reunited with the Hamato clan - since Xever had been returned to his human form. It was over.

And yet - some things could not be deterred from beginning.

Raphael stood before the leanly muscled human, looking up into his handsome dark face, the maturity of age beginning to crinkle the corners of his eyes. Already he could feel the fire of anticipation take flame in his veins just from being in such close proximity to this dazzling man. Xever's black eyes flashed as moonlight dappled his features from the skylight above, stepping away from the wall to come up flush to Raphael, towering over the shorter mutant.

Raphael could feel his breath coming in shorter gasps as the pressure in his tail grew, his powerful biceps tensing. This close he could see the pulse in Xever's neck, hear his own quiet panting, smell the intoxicating aroma of his sweat. And yet they waited, letting the tension build, these final moments of the long wait between each of their rendezvous somehow the most tantalising.

And then there were in each other's arms, mouths opening hungrily, their passionate kiss a clash of tongues and teeth and hot breath. Xever's body was strong, his embrace ferocious and Raphael clutched him tightly against his plastron, one hand grasping the back of his neck fiercely, knowing the Brazilian's toned physique could easily withstand his brutal grip.

Testosterone surged through his bloodstream, crackled on the air between them and Raphael felt the hard, thick press of Xever's cock against his thigh, felt his own erection nudge against his cloaca. Two such hot blooded males had little need for foreplay - they wanted to fuck and they wanted to fuck _now_ and, as one, they moved toward their goal.

Raphael turned Xever quickly around even as the man unbuckled his belt and unfastened his jeans. Thick fingers hooked over the waistband and yanked them down, baring Xever's muscular ass as Raphael pushed him forward over a nearby crate. He stood astride to let his thick, veined cock surge out of his tail, sensing the delicious proximity of Xever's tight asshole. They were both breathing heavily now, their gasps scratching the dark air of the warehouse.

Raphael grasped Xever hard by one hip, then held his enormous hand beneath his lover's chin. Xever spat into it, and Raphael followed by adding his own, lubricating the Brazilian's hot and eager hole, spitting again into his palm and smearing it all over his throbbing cock.

Both males groaned with ecstasy as Raphael eased the tip of his enormous dick past the tight ring of muscle, previous encounters leaving it well exercised enough that, with the lubrication, it stretched with relative ease to accommodate the thick column of meat it had been yearning for.

Raphael slid home with a grateful growl, his cock fairly singing with bliss to find itself immersed in such a deliriously delicious warmth. His head tipped back to the ceiling, he took hold of both Xever's hips and began gently to thrust.

Xever moaned, grasping hard to the crate he bent over. The lusty, shameless noise fired Raphael's passion and his pace picked up a little. He wasn't going to be able to be careful for too much longer. It had been a long wait this time and he was burning with desire to pound his lover's ass as hard and ferociously as he had fantasised about through every filthy jerk out session he had indulged in these last weeks. But though tight, Xever's ass felt receptive. Clearly he had been missed as well.

The crate rocked as Raphael continued to thrust, the narrow tunnel into which he repeatedly buried his dick hugging him tightly, yanking delirium that blinded him so that he shut his eyes tight, bright flashes of colour sparking behind his eyelids with every lick of pleasure that leapt through his body.

Xever was grunting and moaning now, thrusting his ass back to meet Raphael's thrusts, the strong bodies of the two muscular males pulling and pushing at each other with matched ferocity. By now Raphael was pounding Xever brutally, delighting in how his lover took it like a champ, deep churrs vibrating in his throat to mingle with Xever's groaning. His cock slid in and out of Xever's ass furiously, frantically, stretching it open all the wider. As the friction built to abrasive intensity, Raphael spat between their bodies, lubricating his cock anew, and drove into Xever all the rougher.

He just had the presence of mind to spit once more into his own palm and slip his arm around Xever's waist, wrapping his moistened and enormous palm around Xever's own hard cock, pumping it fiercely in time his every thrust.

As Xever's moans reached a feverpitch of euphoria and Raphael felt the cock in his hand leap and spurt hot cum against his calloused palm, the pressure in his groin mounted until his own orgasm swept him in a roaring torrent of bliss that crashed up through his body to wash his brain blank then cascaded down to tingle in his toes. He pumped an explosive load into Xever's ass before he slumped, exhausted and twitching with ecstasy, over his lover's panting form.


	12. Adore

_Anonymous prompted: __Donatello and Jhanna, what took you so long_

**ooo**

_I wrote this inspired by a concept of __winnyverse'__s for Donnie and Jhanna meeting in the future and shacking up for a while and this little story is set very early on in that arrangement. Since Jhanna is an alien, I also decided she wouldn't have fully human genitalia. I was inspired by hyenas though it is still very different._

"What took you so long?"

Donatello looked up at the sound of the imperious voice as he exited the palatial bathing chamber.

She was seated on the royal bed, clad only in a diaphanous rope that skimmed her impressive physique, flowing from a golden collar around her neck. The material was sheer black, allowing the lovely blue of her skin to gleam below it, deepened by the soft yellow glow of the lights ensconced deeply in wall sockets set at wide intervals around the large chamber. Her hair fell loose around her shoulders in richly oiled dreadlocks. Her pointed chin was lifted regally, the sparkle in her eyes belying her imperious expression.

Donatello felt a grin sidle up one side of his face. "I was just readying myself for you, my Queen," he said playfully, approaching her. "You could've joined me."

The merest smile twitched the corner of Jhanna's lips. "I'll remember that next time. Perhaps you will be so lucky."

Donatello knelt down into the plush carpeting before her, meeting her gaze with his own admiring one. "I prefer not to count on luck to get what I want. Strategy, I've found, tends to be a far more reliable system."

Jhanna cocked a brow, fighting to keep the smile from spreading up her face. "Really? And how would you strategise to achieve the attainment of such a goal?"

Donatello placed his hands on her knees, the feel of her robe silky beneath his palms, smiling wolfishly up at her. "Well, I might start by reminding you of a certain memorable night we once spent together in the water a long time ago - "

Jhanna could no longer stop the curving of her mouth as she gazed back into Donatello's rich brown eyes. "Mmmm. As I recall it, though eager to please you were inexperienced and unskilled then."

Donatello was unoffended by this simple fact, running his palms up her thighs so the sheer material bunched, causing her to shiver, a flush to darken her cheeks. "Well, then I might suggest you could improve on the memories by taking advantage of the years of experience I've amassed since then."

Jhanna nodded as though she was considering it, leaning back on her palms as Donatello's hands continued to skim her thighs up and down, the soft fabric brushing her skin rhythmically, folds of it pooling between her legs, tickling her sensitive flesh. "I would be a fool not to put these supposed developed talents to the test beforehand."

"See, this is why you're such a great ruler," Donatello replied, with great difficulty keeping his eyes on her face rather than allowing his gaze to rove the beautiful body that was just visible beneath the transparent material, his thumbs pressing gently into the dip between her thighs, coasting upwards so that he was rewarded with the merest gasp from her. "You're so thorough."

"And I expect the same from you," she replied, her eyes lidded, her lips slightly parted. Donatello pushed against her inner thighs with his thumbs, prompting her legs to part for him. The translucent material spilled between the valley he made and he leaned forward and breathed softly on her mound, knowing the delicate fabric would brush her most sensitive flesh in the most tantalising way. This close her scent, rich and intoxicating, went straight to his head so that he practically reeled with it. A tremor ran straight through his body to echo in his tail and he felt himself swell.

He leant forward closer, pressing his mouth hotly to the engorged clitoris that lay beneath layered folds of gossamer-like material. Fully four inches long and rock hard, the unique Omatron organ quivered below his mouth and Jhanna could not silence the gasp that tore from her throat. Donatello wetly mouthed her large clit, sucking it and flicking his tongue against it in turns, knowing the fine weave of her gown would be providing the most sensational friction contrasted against the wetness of his mouth. Jhanna moaned, lifted a leg to brace her ankle against the mattress to give him better access and the wanton position prompted his cock to surge with desire, to nudge his cloaca urgently. He ignored it and focused on what he was doing, the fingertips of one hand coasting up the tender flesh of her inner thigh, dipping below the hem of her robe and gently trailing the curve of her buttock until he located the moist well at the centre of her. She gasped and bucked at his touch, his fingertips just playing around her aroused opening even as his mouth continued to lick and suck the long, hard clitoris that twitched against his tongue.

He teased her for a while, enjoying the way she thrust and ground against his face, the decidedly ignoble moans and sighs she was making, the way his fingertips slipped around her increasingly wet entrance, then stopped, sitting back.

Jhanna looked down at him, panting, her breasts rising and falling beneath the sheer robe, her nipples hard and dark, her cheeks flushed. The material that draped her engorged genitals was soaking wet form their mingled fluids and the aroma that emanated from her was so powerful he felt giddy, dazed, his cock pulsing insistently, still agonisingly sheathed in his tail.

"I did not tell you to stop," she gasped furiously, her dark eyes flashing.

Donatello cocked a brow ridge at her. "You should probably ask me nicely if you want me to keep going," he remarked mildly.

The consternation that struck her lovely features was then a beautiful sight to behold, but he was careful not to show his delight. Jhanna struggled with all the stubborness of a ruler accustomed to getting her own way for the tiniest demand, before she finally slumped back on her elbows, her eyes pressing shut, desire clearly winning out over pride this time.

"Please resume at your leisure," she said with comanding stiffness and Donatello could scarcely fight the mirth that contorted his face at the compromise she had struck.

But how could he resist all the same, when he had her so completely desperate for him? Leaning forward, he breathed hotly on her swollen clit so that she twitched and gasped, then ran his hands up beneath the silky folds of the robe, parting them to finally reveal the four inch long organ, flushed dark purple with blood, nestled above the delicate tissue that surrounded her wet hole. Slowly, slowly, he leaned forward, smugly noting the way her spine arched and her hips angled forward, how her thighs quivered in anticipation of his touch. He came within milimetres and then stopped, breathing lightly on her wet flesh and smiled to hear her gasp sharp and frustrated above him.

Finally, he slipped his tongue out and touched her softly, waggling just the tip of it against the very centre of her clit and a strangled moan burst from Jhanna's lips and she bucked and writhed with orgasm as Donatello grinned to himself, satisfied.


	13. Male Bonding

_tmntpunx prompted 14: things you said after you kissed me CaseyxRaph_

**ooo**

They'd skidded to a halt in the alleyway, breathless and bloodied, gasping laughter as their eyes met across the shadows. Casey's chest rose and fell beneath his singlet, wet with sweat and clinging to his skin as he stooped, hands on knees, sucking in grateful lungfuls of air.

Raphael wasn't so puffed; he was fitter and better conditioned, but he wasn't sorry for the pause. As the police sirens wailed in the distance, he admired Jones from the corner of his eyes, swiping perspiration from his own brow with the back of one wrist. Casey had no idea how hot he looked after a brawl - tanned skin all ruddy from exertion, the chiselled, rugged features of his face seeming to glow with the thrill of triumph, muscles rippling beneth the slick of sweat and scent pouring off him in heady waves that made Raphael's tail tug with desire. Raphael always had to jerk off two or three times after raising cain with Casey before he could get any sleep at all.

Casey chuffed and straightened up. "What a buncha wimps," he jeered, shaking back his shaggy black hair, making Raphael's groin tighten.

"Yeah," he replied raspily, recalling how Casey had smoothled twirled his hockey staff, and disclocated the jaw of one of the gay bashers they'd chased down, the flex and shift of his muscles like poetry in motion. "Fuckin' pansies."

Suddenly, Casey closed the distance between them, grasping Raphael's face between calloused hands and mashing rough lips, bordered in the rasp of stubble, to his mouth. Raphael reeled as his senses abruptly choked with the tang of Casey's sweat, his shell slammed back against the cold steel of a garage door with the hot, damp press of Casey's firm chest against his plastron. Hot breath mingled frantically as thick, powerful tongues fiercely probed and then entwined and Raphael felt his tail throb as he jammed one muscular thigh between Jones', rubbing it hard against the bulge beneath his sweat pants.

The kiss ebbed to a brusque end, lips tugging at each other as they pulled away, and Raphael's tail was uncomfortably full and beginning to curve stiffly forward. His plastron heaved and the alleyway echoed with the hoarse beat of their panting. Raphael stared into Casey's brown eyes, licked his mouth, and thought about how damn handsome he looked, there in a graffitied alleyway, stinking of garbage.

Casey cocked his head to the side and looked at Raphael quizzically, heavy brows knotting together.

"Bro, anyone ever tell ya you got really bad onion breath?"


	14. Timing

_angstsplatter prompted 12. things you said when you thought I was asleep AprilxRenet_

**ooo**

The lamp throws a warm pool of light over the bed where the two women lie, naked beneath the covers, their soft flesh pressing smoothly together, warming each other. Renet is propped up on one elbow, contemplating April's sleeping face, peaceful and content after their lovemaking.

The blonde trails dainty fingertips through silken strands of red hair, her adoring gaze tracing the other woman's delicate features, the fine cheekbones and pink lips, slightly parted, the lashes that rest on freckled cheeks. She leans over and places a tender kiss on the tip of April's upturned nose.

"I altered time for us," she whispers.

Suddenly, April's lashes flutter open and in the next instant she is gazing up into Renet's stricken blue eyes, her red brows knotting together as she apprehensively searches her lover's face.

"…_What_?"


	15. Three Sheets to the Wind

_lexininja prompted 11. things you said when you were drunk CaseyxRaph_

**ooo**

"Jesus, Casey."

Raphael glowers down at his best friend, who snickers and looks up at him shamelessly with a gappy-toothed grin.

"Heeeeeeeeeyyyyy!" Casey snickers, spreading his arms wide and leaning back on his knees, away from the puddle of sickly-sweet smelling puke in the gutter. "Raph! Bro! Come to join the party?"

Raphael snorts in disgust and rolls his eyes, hands fisted on his hips. "Come to crash the party. C'mon, you knucklehead. It's bedtime."

"Party pooper," Casey pouted as Raphael steps off the curb and hoists Casey to his feet, slinging a limp arm over his shoulders, supporting the skinny teen with one arm wrapped around his waist. Casey reeks of vomit and beer, smoke and sweat, and Raphael wrinkles his snout and scowls.

"You stink like you went swimming in an ashtray, Jones." At Raphael's instigation, they begin lumbering down the footpath, Casey stumbling hopelessly, leaving Raphael practically dragging him along.

Casey giggles drunkenly, punches Raphael lightly on the plastron with one loose fist.

"You can give me a bath if you like," he leers and Raphael feels his cheeks darken. He hates Casey like this, hates that he only puts words to the hints that flicker in the jet depths of his eyes when he's smashed. Hates that he's too much of a coward to challenge him on it when he's sober.

"Yeah right," he snaps irritably as he gets Casey up the stoop of his building and through the sagging glass doors. "I lay a finger on you and I risk getting alcohol poisoning through absorption."

Casey wheezes hysterically as he staggers up the stairs, Raphael propping him up.

His shabby apartment is silent and dark, his father and sister still missing. Raphael helps him over to the couch, shoving him none too gently back onto the cushions, then stomps over to the kitchenette to get him a glass of water. Casey is sprawled across it when he returns, drooling up at the ceiling with a dazed expression and Raphael heaves out in exasperation, and chucks the glass of water in his face.

Casey sits up sputtering, his hazed eyes clearing abruptly as he glares up at Raphael in indignation, shaking beads of water from his hair and face.

"Hey man, what the fuck? What's your problem?"

"Seeing you act like a jackass," Raphael fires back. "How d'you think you woulda got home if I hadn't showed up?"

"Woulda managed," Casey pouts, slouching back into the cushions, his dark eyes glaring moodily to the side, looking dishevelled and disturbingly gorgeous, however bad he reeks.

Raphael rolls his eyes. "Whatever. Don't bitch to me about your hangover."

He turns to go, but Casey bolts forward with more speed than he would've thought possible, trashed as he is.

"Don't go. Not yet."

Raphael freezes, looks down to where Casey's hand grips his wrist, looks back to his bleary-eyed friend who can't quite conceal the glitter of anxiousness in his gaze.

"Okay," he replies after a long moment, and settles down on the floor in front of the couch, finding the remote under a pile of dogeared magazines and empty noodle bowls and flicking the TV on as Casey slumps back down on the couch.

After ten minutes or so, mindlessly watching some Jean Claude Van Damm trash from the nineties, he glances back at his friend, expecting to find him unconscious. He is startled to find Casey, stretched out on the cushions, staring at him with eyes that glisten, his chapped lips slightly parted, one skinny arm flung up and over his head, strands of wet hair plastered across his forehead.

Raphael shifts uncomfortably, turns back to the TV. "Quit staring."

There's silence then but for the muted roar and shriek of the movie. Raphael holds his breath, feeling Casey's gaze upon him as keenly as though the other boy had grazed his knuckles down the side of his neck.

Then Casey speaks again, and Raphael's heartbeat rises like thunder:

"Never thought I'd find another dude so hot as you."


	16. By Cover Of Night

_Anonymous prompted 18. things you said when you were scared_

_set roughly in__gladrial's verse "Northampton Echoes" and after the episode Buried Secrets._

**ooo**

He finds her on the rooftop, sitting with her knees drawn up to her chest, gazing up at a sky that is dark and clouded. The dim outline of her is almost lost against the night, the stars all blotted out, and he wonders what it is she is looking at up there until he tips back his own head, gazing into the inky depths of the clouds, and realises it doesn't matter.

"Hey," he says, sitting down beside her, the slats of the roof creaking beneath his weight. Around them the farm yard is quiet and still, the woods beyond looming in shadowed specters that silently watch them.

She doesn't answer, just continues to stare into the heavens and he glances towards where she sits, dappled in midnight, and wishes he could see her face.

The impulse to touch her comes upon him so suddenly, he is reaching for her before he even knows he will. In the darkness his knuckles graze her cheek, and come away damp.

In the silence on that forlorn rooftop, her shuddering breath seems to scratch the night.

"What if my mother is still alive?" she whispers. Her voice is choked with tears and his heart breaks. "What if they've got her somewhere - experimenting on her? What if they've had her all these years?"

He doesn't know what to say. He never does.

But as he stares back up into the darkly mottled fathoms of the cloudy night sky, he feels the force of her anguish, and understands.

He puts an arm around her shoulders and folds her in towards him. She crumples against his plastron and begins to cry, trembling in his embrace so that he holds her tighter, closer, keeping her together so that she can fall apart and he is glad she is not alone with her grief anymore, that at the least he can be there to face the indifferent night beside her.


	17. Dip

_anonymous prompted: __raphxalopex things you said when you were scared_

**ooo**

"I don't know about this."

Alopex peered over the rock embankment, her golden eyes blinking warily. Her large fluffy tail arced up above her head, the snowy fronds catching the light of the sun behind her, glinting.

Raphael smirked, lazily treading water, enjoying the way the lake lapped at his flesh.

"C'mon," he goaded her, grinning up at where she peeked down at him, her large ears pricked, her jet black nose quivering. She clung to the rock with her neat little white paws just visible from his vantage point below her. For a badass kunoichi, she looked damned adorable. "You're not scared of getting your fur a little wet, are ya?"

Alopex's tail twitched irritably and she narrowed those captivating predator's eyes at him.

"Foxes only swim when we have to," she replied primly."Like any sensible creature."

Raphael snickered, then dove beneath the water. Even in the middle of summer the water was icy at first, but quickly warmed around his strong, healthy body as he kicked downwards. He relished the embrace of it, how it clung to him yet parted easily as he swam.

Swimming to the bottom, he grasped hold of a thick stalk of water weed and anchored himself against the river bed, the finely milled earth gritty between his toes, tiny granules scattering in cloudy gusts around his ankles. He tipped his head back and gazed up towards the surface of the water.

It shifted high above his head, the sun glittering through and illuminating the crystal clear water a brilliant, translucent green. He could make out the blue of the sky beyond the gold and the dark shadow of the rocky outcrop. All around him great bushes of water weed sprouted and swayed gently, their fronds straining towards the surface. It was silent down there at the bottom of the lake, save for the strange echo of the water as it pulsed around him. It was like another world, eerily calm and peaceful, and somehow he felt like he belonged.

He stayed there, comfortably holding his breath, waiting, looking up to where the sun sparkled on the surface through the clear jade depths.

It took only a little longer than he expected. Then her lithe body broke the surface and she was swimming downwards with determined strength, her arms arcing through the water. Hidden in the weeds, he watched her, unable to help the little grin that quirked his mouth. Her fur streamed backwards against the push of the water, clinging to her surprisingly lean physique. As she drew closer to the bottom, he could see the play of muscle beneath the silvery fur, the shapeliness of her torso and haunches, and his heart rate kicked up a little. Damn, she looked good.

Her pretty ears were flattened back against her skull, giving her an unexpectedly vulnerable look, and her large golden eyes blinked against the press of the water as she searched the bed of weeds, her brows furrowing, her tail lashing anxiously. A stream of bubbles burst from her muzzle and shot towards the surface as she scanned the river bed, the glint in her eyes becoming more frantic.

He took pity and shot up from the weeds in one explosive motion. Alopex flinched backwards, kicking furiously, bubbles frothing around her ankles and gusting from her mouth, unable to stop the impulse of alarm before it widened her eyes, curled her lip to reveal sharp teeth.

He kicked in the water beside her, resisting the tug that drew him upwards, buoyant in the emerald depths, smirking triumphantly. Alopex's expression cleared, then clouded, her eyes narrowing furiously as she realised his mischief and then she tilted her head up and kicked hard at the water, shooting up towards the surface

Raphael rolled his eyes and followed her.

They broke the surface simultaneously, sprays of water sparkling around them. Alopex gasped as she sucked in a great lungful of air, bobbing up and down. He could've held his breath an age yet, and easily exhaled. The sun shone down on them from the clear blue sky, and a breeze set the green leaves of the trees that bordered the lake gently rustling.

Alopex turned her back to him and began swimming towards the shore.

"Oh c'mon!" He cried, going after her, the water gurgling around the stroke of his arms. "That was funny. And it's fun now you're in, huh?"

She didn't reply, just kept on paddling, her wet ears still laying back against her head, now in fury.

Raphael huffed and pushed forward forcefully, overtaking her. The sun felt incredible on his shoulders and carapace and the water was soft and carressing around them. How could she not love this?

"Lighten up!" he entreated, trying to hide how amused he was by her bedraggled appearance, sodden fur slicked back and dripping as they trod water near the shore. She sank down in the water to the tip of her nose and narrowed her eyes venomously at him, her ears still flattened. He chuckled and shifted closer to her, holding his arms out. "Do I need to kiss it better?"

She spat a stream of water directly into his face.

He sputtered as she laughed and splashed away, her wet fur gleaming in the sunlight.

"You can kiss me if you can catch me," she teased him as she swam further into the lake.

He snorted the water from his nostrils and went after her with a grin.


	18. Confession

_Anonymous prompted: __Jhanna and Donnie things you said that I wasn't meant to hear_

I meant for this to be no more than 1000 words, it ended up over 3000. -_- It uses winnychan's fanon as its springboard, and incorporates a bunch of the tropes that have become standard amongst this ship's loyal devotees!

**ooo**

"I don't know what to do."

Her voice was quiet and forlorn in the empty room, an unguarded confession she intended for no one but herself.

"What about?"

Jhanna started to hear Donatello's voice behind her, whirling around to find him standing in the middle of the palace's tactical command center, looking up at her curiously from where she stood before the data screens on the operations deck,.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded, her cheeks flushing hot. She raised her chin imperiously and peered down at him.

Donatello blinked and recoiled a little, but then stepped calmly towards the stairs, hands clasped behind his shell, head cocking a little to the side. "I came to find you," he said mildly, a small smile edging up his mouth. Bands of light shifted over his skin as strategic plans flashed across the holographic screens in the darkened room, the beads and medallions she had adorned him with sparkling as the glare intermittently struck them. His chestnut eyes were deep and earnest and intent upon her. "I missed you."

Jhanna narrowed her eyes at him. "Citizens are not permitted in the command center," she said sharply. Below her robes her heart hammered against her ribcage and she clenched her fists to hide their tremble. "You should not have come here. It is extremely disrespectful."

Donatello stopped and gaped up at her, eyes wide and incredulous at her harsh tone.

"I'm… sorry," he replied after a moment, unable to conceal his bafflement. "I didn't realise. It's just that you've been gone for hours. I really was missing you." There was a soft note of dismay to his voice and Jhanna realised he was offended.

She turned away from him and marched to the computer, her boots sinking silently into the plush carpet. She hit a button that switched off the screens, leaving the large chamber lit only by soft golden lights, nestled deeply in their sconces along the walls. "If you were anyone else, I would be forced to suspect spying and have you arrested," she muttered angrily, locking the computer systems with several rapid key taps.

Shock emanated from him in the cold silence that followed and though her throat tightened, she kept her back to him firm and straight, knowing the gleam of her taut musculature would impress upon him her displeasure and resolve.

"Jhanna - " he stammered at last and she spun around, her red robes skimming up in a furious flurry.

"_My Queen_", she corrected, fixing him with a glare that could blister even the tough hide of a triceraton.

Donatello's brow ridges furrowed, his eyes narrowing at her. "_My Queen_," he repeated heavily. "Forgive me my impertinence - " her own eyes narrowed at the sarcasm that laced his words. " - but you are _completely overreacting_ here. All that happened is I came to find you and entered a room without understanding the proper protocol. My intentions were pure, I promise you. You must realise that. So, what's this really about?"

His hands were outstretched, palms turned upwards imploringly. She gazed down at him, into the warm eyes that met hers directly, seeking an answer to assuage his confusion and frustration.

She breathed deeply in, her breasts rising and falling beneath the gold chestplate she wore. "Donatello," she said evenly, placing a hand upon the bannister. "It is not your place to question me. Though you are my consort and much beloved by me, you must still obey the customs of my rule. I will grant you forgiveness upon this occasion, as you are still a comparative newcomer to my lands, but I will brook no dissent on this matter."

Donatello cocked a brow ridge and tilted his head to the side, eyeing her searchingly. He folded his hands behind his shell again and she did not fail to observe the curvature of his biceps, the strong lines of his thighs as he stood his place. His beauty made her heart quiver, but she did not betray herself.

"Is this because I overheard you?" he asked her quietly.

Fury lanced across her chest like a molten blade and she shook her braids back over her shoulders, the jewels that were wound within them tinkling brightly. Taking her robes in one hand she stormed down the stairs and came up flush with his plastron, staring down into his determined face.

"How dare you?" she raged. "How dare you presume to know my heart?"

Donatello did not quail, but met her wrath with strength that might have been admirable at another time, straightening up and lifting his chin.

"I am learning your heart," he retorted boldly. "Aren't I? Isn't that what we both desire? I have made my heart open to you." There was a sudden sadness twined in the words and he blinked at her with quiet, stormy eyes. At once her breath caught to see how readily vulnerable he allowed himself to be despite the rage she had turned on him, and she tightened her fists against the tumult that abruptly roared inside of her. "As I am doing right now - I hate to see you in any conflict, my Queen - it pains me, as your devoted consort, to witness your distress."

For a moment she considered striking him. The muscles of her arm quivered with the desire. But she was not a barbarian, and he was her beloved.

"You do not understand what you saw," she replied instead, her voice clipped and icy. She allowed her lip to curl with a sneer, folded her arms across her chest plate.

Donatello's brow ridges lifted delicately. "I believe I saw that you were experiencing conflict over the best way to negotiate a truce with the Katesh whilst at the same time establishing a defence system to protect the integrity of your borders that would not further provoke their volatile natures."

This time she had to turn away to prevent herself from slapping him. Mariah had been infamous for her brutality towards her consorts. Jhanna refused to be anything like her old rival.

"Regardless, it is none of your concern," she said testily. "These matters are for myself and my military forces."

Behind her, Donatello sighed. "But I might be of some assistance to you," he suggested gently. "I'm sure that I could be."

Jhanna looked over her shoulder at him, one brow lifted with deliberate contempt. "You? You are a consort. Your role under these roofs is to be my intimate companion, to pleasure me with your company and satisfy me with your attentions. Matters of state are beyond the scope of your capacity."

Donatello bristled, and now his fists were by his sides, his arms taut with indignance.

"Excuse me?" he said sharply. "'_Beyond my capacity_'? You know as well as I do that is - pardon me - total bullshit. I fixed your ship and used it to come here, remember? And that is only one example in a whole lifetime of aptitude and ability, to waste no time on false modesty. Jhanna, _you know this_. That first night - you told me yourself you had chosen me because out of all my brothers I was the most intellectually exceptional."

"For a male," she interjected with a sniff, and tossed her braids again.

Donatello rolled his shoulders back and stared at her with dismay where she stood on the last step, her chin high and her spine straight, her violently red robes spilling out over the plush carpeting.

"Is all this really because I caught you in a moment of vulnerability?" His voice was so soft it seemed to skim her skin and she turned away again before he could catch her shiver. "Jhanna, there's no shame in that. You know how deeply I care about you. My devotion is absolute. I would be honoured if you wanted to confide in me. I would do all that I could to advise you."

Jhanna gripped the banister and pressed her eyes shut. Her heart thundered and her breath was short and harsh. He did not understand. He could not understand - what it meant to rule an entire people. The fierce legacy she was expected to uphold. How infallible her strength must appear at all times, and how compelling her conviction.

"I do not require advice from a royal concubine," she said flatly. "Now, I command you to leave my presence - return to your chambers and do not come to me again until I call for you."

For a long moment there was only silence. Then the murmur of his feet upon the carpet as he turned.

"As you command, my Queen," he replied, his courtesy stiff and cold.

It was not until she heard the door quietly click shut that she allowed the tremble that gripped her core to overtake her until she sunk down upon the steps.

Donatello threw the holographic projection tablet of Omatran history across his bedchamber. It hit the wall then clattered to the floor, its digital display sputtering out as he leapt up from his bed and paced the room.

"Damned arrogant, prideful woman" he muttered. "I've never been so insulted - "

He caught sight of himself in the enormous gilded mirror that lined one wall and came to a stop. Donatello was not vain by nature and did not spend much time contemplating his appearance and it was only now that he really observed how he looked adorned in the trinkets she had gifted to him. He had welcomed each one with delight, happy to wear them as was the custom for one of his position here, revelling in the heady pulse of erotic euphoria the ritual had evoked. The past few weeks had been spent in a state of sexual intoxication that had eased his disorientation and homesickness, soothed his adjustment to life as a glorified house-husband in a strange new world with strange new customs.

But now as he gazed upon his reflection, the bejewelled thongs that twined down the tails of his mask, the golden cuffs that encircled his arms, the medallions that glittered against his plastron - all of them seemed now to mark him as an object. A thing whose personhood - whose mind - was inconsequential next to the services he could provide.

"Maybe this was all a mistake," he said softly, and his heart tore into ragged pieces at the thought.

Weary and sorrowful, he sat back down on the bed and slumped over, scratching his neck and sighing. He had come so far - across a thousand stars - to be with her. He had known it was a risk - it was his nature to calculate and analyse, to weigh possibility and account for every outcome and he had known there was a chance it could all go terribly wrong. He had believed it was worth the risk. That knowing for sure had to be better than gazing up into the endless fathoms of the night and wondering for the rest of his life.

But he had been desperate, then. Desperate for a shot at happiness. Even if he had to go to the end of the universe to find it.

Even if the pursuit only broke his heart.

There was the soft rustle of silk and his senses abruptly filled with the scent of her perfume, rich and spicy and causing an involuntary tug of his tail.

He lifted his face from his hands and looked towards the doorway, and there she stood, her braids released from their band and tumbling around her lovely face, softening its sharp angularity. She was stripped of her royal armour, clad only in a diaphanous gown that skimmed her curves, her neck and wrists free of jewellery. Her blue skin gleamed beneath the iridescent material, its folds gathered thickly across her groin, her nipples pressing against the soft silk. She gazed at him with eyes that glittered like the deepest reaches of the galaxy and her sensual lips were solemn and sad. She took his breath away.

"Donatello," she said quietly as she stepped into his chamber, and though he knew it was her right, still he felt a bolt of resentment strike his heart.

"I thought you did not wish to see me, my Queen," he said, and he could not quite keep the asperity from his voice. His pride had been wounded after all. He was only mortal.

She stiffened and he was afraid suddenly that she would go.

"But I'm glad that you came," he added quickly. In other circumstances, he would've fallen to his knees at her feet, laid kisses along the hem of her gown, following the path of her legs upwards, kisses that would make her laugh and shiver with delight. But he couldn't bring himself to, not right then.

She lifted her chin and met his gaze. "I am sorry that we quarrelled, Donatello. It was not my desire."

He stared at her for a long moment then sat up straight and swallowed. "Not mine, either."

"I did not wish to offend you," she continued, her hips swaying softly as she moved across the room, the shimmering material undulating over her body. "I spoke only the truth according to my people. But perhaps I spoke too harshly."

Donatello watched as she moved, striving not to become too distracted by her sensual glide. "Jhanna - I can accept the ways of your people are different. I can even accept that to be with you means I cannot be involved in every aspect of your kingdom. But I cannot accept being treated as though I am of inferior intelligence - as though I am beneath such information, rather than forbidden it for security purposes. You must've known when you took me as your own of my ability and curiosity - that I wouldn't be satisfied without stimulation. I had thought - had _hoped_ \- it was one of the characteristics you found attractive in me."

Jhanna paused by the arched windows that overlooked the lavish palace gardens, the pale glow of twilight silhouetting her splendid figure so that Donatello felt a lump rise in his throat.

"It is," she replied lowly, and he was struck by the abruptly melancholy tilt to her head. "You are so - different - to Omatran men, Donatello. I am not yet accustomed to it, though I do rejoice in it."

"Well, I'm glad to hear it," Donatello said, a touch of frustration colouring his words. "Though maybe it's more that I don't behave the way Omatran men are expected to behave instead of being that different to them?"

Her chuckle was throaty and his skin prickled: "Perhaps."

There was a pause. He stared at her where she stood, turned away from him just as she had been earlier. But now there was something about her attitude. She seemed to have shrunk into herself, her shoulders slumped, her head bowed. It made him want to go to her, draw her into his arms and brush her braids back over her ears, lavish her throat and breasts with ardent kisses.

But he held back.

"Is the idea of having political counsel with me really so ridiculous to you?" he queried.

She turned to him, her face shadowed by the falling darkness beyond the window. "No," she said bluntly. "But nor can I allow it."

Donatello heaved a sigh, his plastron expanding. "Because of tradition, or because you just won't?"

She stood upright, her spine stiffening. Her eyes glittered in the shadows. "Tradition is important to my people, Donatello."

Donatello felt his mouth twist with a wry smile. "That doesn't answer my question."

Jhanna stepped away from the window, her brows knitting together, her full lips set firm. "You have no idea the pressures I am under as Queen of this world. Or the immense responsibility I bear."

Donatello opened his mouth to retort, then hesitated. "That's true," he admitted. "I have no idea what it is like to be a ruler, looked to for guidance over the lives of millions of people." Even as he spoke the words, his breath caught and his heart dropped. He regarded her with new understanding.

"But you could tell me," he suggested gently. Jhanna stared at him curiously, a guarded sheen in her gaze.

"Did we not just go over this - " she began, irritation lacing her voice.

"I don't mean tell me military secrets or ask my advice on royal affairs," he interjected. "I mean - you could just talk to me, about how you're feeling. It might help. I know how strong you are - you've done this alone for so many years now - but maybe if someone else knows what you're feeling - you won't feel so alone."

She was gazing at him with an indecipherable expression. "It is the duty of a queen to bear her burden alone," she replied steadily. "I cannot give my people any reason to lose faith in me."

Donatello couldn't help but smile, admiring her where she stood in her sheer gown, her braids loose, her figure strong and sensual. "But I'm not one of your people," he pointed out logically. "Technically, I'm just a guest. And it would be in my best interest to keep your confidence," he continued. "Any threat to your leadership and my position of comfort here could be at risk." He grinned playfully, but there was truth in his words and he saw her consider them, her head cocking slightly to the side.

"I - " she began and then swallowed heavily. "I have never thought that I needed anyone," she finished and her dark eyes seemed fathomless.

"Maybe you don't," he said softly. "But that doesn't mean you couldn't use someone."

She stared at him a moment, her lips parted. Her eyes shimmered by the lamplight and quickly she turned away, stepping back into the shadows by the window. Donatello held his breath, fearful that at any moment she might become enraged again, resentful at the way he edged beneath her skin. All he wanted in that moment was to draw her to him and feel her body succumb against his, melt into him until she was eased of her burdens. Until she understood this was not weakness. Until he knew her down to her soul. Until she welcomed it.

She stood gazing so long out over the gardens, now dark but for the speckling of starlight, that he grew worried and began to rise from the bed, unable to resist any longer the urge to go to her.

"I am troubled," she said quietly before he could reach her side and he stopped short and stared at her carefully, his heart abruptly racing. "The decisions I must make are immense. I do not wish to make a mistake. But it is so difficult to be sure."

Donatello paused and carefully considered what to say, painfully aware this tentative concession could just as suddenly be retracted if he screwed it up. He looked at her and the quietly sad stoop of her shoulders and how the shadows seemed to soften and shrink her so that she did not seem so much the assured and powerful ruler of a people as she did simply a girl, as conflicted and fragile as any other. He hesitated a moment longer and then stepped over to her, his hands running up over her shoulders. She stiffened, and then, as his strong fingers began to gently knead the coiled muscles, she at once gave in, seeming to melt beneath his touch.

"My Queen is exhausted," he murmured against her braids, inhaling the heady scent of her. "Would she permit me to bathe her, so that she might feel restored once more?"

He drew his thumbs up between her shoulder blades and Jhanna shuddered, her head lolling forward, a soft sound escaping her lips.

"I would like that," she admitted, and her voice was hoarse.

_It's a start_, Donatello thought, and hope once more lightened his spirit. _And a start is all we need._

Gently, he took her hand in his own and led her towards the bath chamber.


	19. Ship Wars

_firebirdscratches prompted: "Please keep your sick away from me and get better soon. I made you soup." Donnie and Casey :)_

Set in  firebirdscratches' _Best Selves _verse, in which April, Donatello and Casey are in a happy three-way.

The mildest, tiniest spoilers for The Force Awakens - but honestly nothing you won't have seen all over tumblr by now. I haven't even seen the movie myself yet, tbh.

**ooo**

An extremely pregnant April O'Neil deposited two massive bowls of chicken noodle soup down on the coffee table and then lumbered away, one hand resting on the large belly that stretched out in front of her. "Try not to kill each other."

Donatello glared at his wife's retreating figure and opened his mouth to retort, but was overcome by a fit of coughing that wracked his shoulders, tears squeezing from the corners of his eyes.

"That'll learn her," Casey hoarsely quipped, blowing his nose loudly into a shrivelled tissue. Donatello fixed baleful eyes on his companion in suffering.

"Quit hogging the blanket, Jones,' he muttered miserably, and gave the woollen plaid a tug that yanked it right off Casey's hairy bare legs.

"Yeow! Hey!" Casey scrambled weakly to snatch it back. "Three brothers and you don't know how to share?"

"I'm a reptile," Donatello sniffed, clinging to the blanket. "You've got your dumb self-regulating body heat. Deal with it."

"Come on, Donnie," Casey whined, shivering in his boxer shorts. "I'm way too sick to go get more clothes. Have a heart, pal. Hey, I got your wife knocked up so you can be a dad! What have you done for me lately?"

Donatello eyed Casey reproachfully, tucking the blanket up beneath his chin. "Um, pretty sure you're sharing the parental duties, _pal_. Though if you're as lousy at that as you are at sharing with those less fortunate, I guess I'll be a solo dad after all."

"Oh my god!" April shrieked from the bedroom. "I'm trying to nap! Can you two just knock it off? It takes me a good ten seconds of rocking to get upright, so if I have to come out there - " her voice dwindled off threateningly and Casey and Donatello held their breath for a tense moment, cowering on the couch.

"Here," Donatello grudgingly relinquished half of the blanket to Casey, who snatched it greedily over his lap.

"I need more," he grumbled and scootched closer to Donatello who yelped and squirmed into the corner of the couch.

"Keep those gross hairy appendages away from me, Jones!" He shrieked. "Ugh, mammals and hair, I swear to god…"

"What was that?" April's voice was dangerously pitched and Donatello abruptly shut up.

"Nothing at all, oh precious, golden ray of sunshine mine!" he chirruped in a sickeningly sweet tone.

"Because if you really think I'm going to huff and puff around this extra baggage I'm carrying just to shave my legs in order to keep you happy, you're got another think coming, buster!"

"I hadn't even noticed, sweetheart!" Donatello called soothingly.

Beside him on the couch, Casey snickered.

"Busted," he taunted Donatello and then was abruptly overcome by a coughing fit of his own, his sinuses overflowing with mucous as he desperately flailed for a tissue. Donatello settled back smugly into the cushions.

"That'll learn _you_," he muttered darkly.

Casey blew his nose again and slumped back against the couch, his head tipped back and his jaw dangling, breathing shallowly through his mouth.

"Seriously, bro, I might need to go to hospital," he wheezed. "I don't think I've ever been this sick before."

Donatello rolled his eyes. "Please. At least you _can_ go to a hospital. At least you can seek the aid of qualified professionals. What about me? Once I'm down, that's it! Kaput! I'm not even strong enough to reach for my soup. How am I supposed to administer basic medical care?

"I can't even sit up," Casey moaned, the trembling fingers of one hand weakly running through strands of damp hair. "Not even to get a glass of water - "

Donatello sniffled and tucked the blanket beneath his chin a little more. "There are stars dancing in front of my eyes. I'm running a fever."

Casey coughed piteously. "I'm gonna puke any second, I know it, and I won't even be able to make it to the can."

Donatello shivered violently. "I'm freezing. If my body temperature dips any lower, I could slip into a coma."

Casey groaned and writhed against the cushions. "Ugh, my guts are in agony. They're probably rupturing and oozing gross crud everywhere."

"_Oh my god!_" April shrieked. "It's a cold! That's all it is! You both have a totally average, completely harmless, run-of-the-mill case of man-flu! You don't need to go to the hospital! You don't need medical attention! You don't even need aspirin! But if both of you don't shut up_ right now_, I'll make sure you know how being sick _really_ feels! Geez! Just watch a movie or something!"

The two men sat in chagrined silence for a moment, sheepishly looking everywhere but at each other.

"Okay, let's see what's on Netflix," Donatello muttered, picking up the remote control and pointing it at the television. "Ooh - _Interstellar_!"

"No way!" Casey reached over and snatched the remote from his hand, scrolling through the menu. "You've watched that crap, like, ten times already. Now that's what I'm talking about -_San Andreas_!"

"No way, Jones!" Donatello fumbled for the remote, his huge green fingers slipping over Casey's thin, tanned ones. "We are not watching that trash! It's an insult to my intelligence and to good taste."

"It's a movie, Donatello," Casey sneered. "It doesn't have to be _scientifically accurate_!"

Donatello narrowed disdainful eyes at Casey. "_That_ has very little to do with it, Casey. It's a schmaltzy, sentimental and ultimately soulless contest of spectacle masking the most rudimentary of plot and character development and buffered only by excessive displays of machismo and Dwayne Johnson's right eyebrow. It's rubbish and I won't watch it."

"Take a nap then," Casey said belligerently, pointing the remote towards the screen.

Donatello lashed out quickly and snatched the remote back. "_Interstellar_. Come on, it's got spaceships and explosions. That should be enough to satisfy you."

"It makes no sense!" Casey snapped back, his reddened eyes bulging, hands clawing the sky in exasperation. "It's basically magic! The whole movie revolves. around. magic."

"It's actually grounded in genuine scientific theory, Casey," Donatello retorted haughtily. "And is easily comprehended with a minimum amount of focused attention. A tall order for the contemporary audience, I realise, but nonetheless -"

A loud groan emanated from the bedroom. "How about _Star Wars_?" April suggested desperately.

There was a pause as the two boys eyes each other from either end of the couch, plaid blanket clutched over their laps, sniffling and pouting.

"I could watch _Star Wars_," Donatello conceded in a petulant mumble.

"Hrrmmph," was all Casey's reply.

Donatello cycled to _The Force Awakens_ and a moment later the iconic blare of trumpets filled the den and the familiar yellow text began scrolling up the screen. Casey laboriously reached for the bowls of soup April had left for them, groaning all the way, and handed one to Donatello, who grunted his thanks. The turtle and the human slurped noisily at their meals as the opening crawl gave way to the deepest reaches of space, and an Imperial Star Destroyer.

"Finn and Poe are so gay," Donatello remarked after a while and Casey rolled his eyes and let his spoon clatter into his bowl with a splash.

"No they're not. It's a _bromance_, there's a _difference_."

Donatello sighed. "Casey, the actors even _said_ \- "

"I don't care!" Casey exclaimed. "Why can't two dudes just, like, totally love each other without being _in_ love?"

"Um, because they're _gay_," Donatello explained as he might to a small child. "In this case, gay for _each other_."

"Whatever dude," Casey took another slurp of his soup and put his socked feet up on the coffee table. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

Donatello opted not to even dignify that with an answer and for a little while the movie unfolded in comparative peace. Then Donatello cleared his throat.

"Ah - you know - there's kinda some parallels here, really."

Casey quirked a brow at him. "What - between you and me?"

"No!" Donatello hastened to protest. "Between you and me and - " he jerked his head toward the bedroom door.

"Oh," Casey's eyebrows shot up and he blinked rapidly. "Like - April is - Rey - ?"

"No," Donatello said, exasperated. "April is _Finn_."

Casey's expression cleared as he got it. "_Oh_."

"Yeah?"

Casey grinned at Donatello, his hair in sweaty clumps across his forehead, his runny nose red and raw. "I ship it."

Some time later, April trudged wearily out into the den, knuckling at eyes still gritty from the nap she'd finally managed to snatch, only to be greeted with the sight of Casey and Donatello, sound asleep on the couch. The blanket was tucked cosily around them, half-empty bowls of soup balanced dangerously on their laps. Casey's feet were up on the coffee table, one big toe poking out of a hole in his sock, his head tipped against the back of the couch, his jaw dangling open. Donatello's legs were slung over one arm rest, his head fallen to prop against Casey's, a trickle of drool running down his chin. Both of them were loudly snoring.

April sighed, a fond smile curving her lips, shaking her head in despair. "Well. That's my boys."


	20. The Perfect Crime

_Loverofmythology prompted "comfort food"_

**ooo**

"Mikey!" Raphael bellowed, slamming the cupboard doors shut in disgust. "Have you _seriously_ eaten all the popcorn _again_?"

"No!" Michelangelo's voice echoed indignantly across the lair from his bedroom. "I swear! There was, like, half a bag left last time I looked!"

"Yeah, right!" Raphael stomped out of the kitchen and scowled towards the upper level. "That's the lamest defence I ever heard. Just 'fess up!"

"It wasn't me!" Michelangelo shrieked, appearing at his bedroom door and flailing his arms around. "Why don't you go ask Leo or Don, huh?"

"Get real," Raphael jeered. " Any time food goes missing around here, it's _always_ you, Mikey!"

Their shouts continued unabated as, over in front of the television, Master Splinter quietly licked the butter off his whiskers and turned the volume up.


	21. Midnight Showing

_anonymous prompted: "The remote is two feet thataway and I don't feel like moving. We're stuck with this." Raphril_

I'm setting this in gladrial's _Northampton Echoes _verse. She has a great flair for banter that I sorely lack, but I gave it a red hot go to try and blend our two styles. It helps if you've actually seen the movie referenced, but oh well, lol.

**ooo**

Outside the farmhouse the snow drifted softly onto the yard and the woods beyond, lacing the glass of the windows in intricate icy patterns. The fire crackled and hissed in the fireplace, smoke pluming up the chimney as logs of wood steadily crumbled to ash. On the couch, Raphael and April huddled beneath an old quilt, fusty with the scent of mothballs.

Raphael glared at her, one big hand mindlessly fondling her feet where they rested in his lap beneath the quilt. "_Seriously_? You're really gonna make us watch this?"

April shrugged and leaned her head against the back of the couch, smirking at him. "I'm cosy. And this looks like it could be kinda fun."

He cocked a brow ridge at her. "_Showgirls_?"

April giggled and brought the quilt up a little higher around her neck. "C'mon, give it a shot. I've heard it's really funny."

"Funny as a gun to the head," he grumbled, but made no attempt himself to move.

Truth was, they were both just barely clinging to wakefulness. It was past midnight and there was no light in the den but the flickering glow of the fire, the house dark and silent around them, the whisper of snowflakes against the window threatening to lull them to sleep at any moment. But this was the only time they had together. The only time they could cuddle, and kiss, and pretend there was nothing but peace and the sweet joy of each other's company.

"This is actually physically painful to watch," he announced barely ten minutes in.

She kicked him gently, giggling. "Shhh, you'll miss the intricate plot details."

"Seriously, April. I am in agony over here. This is even worse than having to sit through one of Leo's _Space Heroes_ marathons. It's torture."

April rolled her eyes. "What exactly do you want me to do about it, tough guy?"

He grinned. "You could help ease my pain." He waggled his brow ridges at her suggestively.

She cocked one red brow at him, her lips pursing. "Oh, really? How do you suggest I do that?"

Abruptly he kicked up the quilt, dropping a giant, three-toed foot heavily into her lap. "How about you rub _my _feet for a change?"

"Oof - oh you - stop it!" April snorted, choking back her giggles as she shoved uselessly at his massive foot. "Shh, or you'll wake everyone!"

Raphael stretched back on the cushions, arms behind his head. "Me? You're the one making all the noise." Slyly, he wiggled his toes into her tummy and she squirmed and smothered her laughter behind her hands, trying in vain to writhe away from his tickles.

"You're missing the boobs!" she wheezed desperately and abruptly his head snapped around to gaze wide-eyed at the tiny flickering screen.

"Woah!" he breathed, and dropped his foot onto the rug again. "This movie might not be so bad after all."

April sighed and rolled her eyes again. "Speaking of torture…"

Raphael elbowed her lightly. "Hey, this was your choice, remember. Damn, this girl's only got two emotions - screaming and punching." He counted them off on two thick fingers, then lifted his arm for April to scoot under, the two of them huddling close, the press of their bodies deliriously comforting against the cold, late night.

After a while April snorted, and shook her head quickly, trying to shake off the drowsiness that was leadening her eyelids. "We should make up a drinking game for this movie."

Raphael knuckled one eye. "Take a drink every time this chick overreacts about something."

April smiled, and snuggled closer to him. "Take a drink every time someone says 'Versayce'."

"Take a drink every time we see nipples."

"Woah, that's a quick way to get alcohol poisoning. Take a drink anytime Cristal says 'darlin'."

"Uhhh - " Raphael fought back against the fog descending on his brain. "Take a drink every time some really weird, kinda dykey girl bonding is going on."

April smiled at him wryly. "Does that include all the remarks about each other's nails?"

Raphael thoughtfully scratched his neck. "Nah. Those need their own shot."

April tittered and lay her head on his shoulder. For a moment they watched in silence and then Raphael sighed.

"This would be way more fun if we actually had some booze to drink."

April chuckled. "Want to call it a night?"

His arm tightened around her a little, hand squeezing her shoulder. "Not just yet."

The movie played on as the fire began to die. The shadows of the room grew deeper and longer and their eyes grew heavier, their heads swimming and bowing together. Beneath the quilt their fingers entwined and her hand folded into his, warm and close and sweet.


	22. Made from Love

_firebirdscratches prompted: trembling hands, collapse, tender_

This is set in fbs' own "Best Selves" universe.

**ooo**

**trembling hands**

"Ready? I was born ready. Let's do this," Michelangelo said firmly. But he couldn't hide the tremble of his hand as he took Nick's. Their eyes locked and Nick saw at once the fearfulness at the heart of his husband's baby blue eyes.

Nick smiled and ran an affectionate hand back over Michelangelo's cheek. "Hey, babe, relax. We got this."

Michelangelo's mouth twitched in a weak smile, but before he could respond the door opened and a neatly dressed woman stepped out into the corridor, smiling at them.

"Michelangelo and Niko? How nice to meet you. I'm Gail. Why don't you come into my office and we can go over the adoption process together."

**collapse**

"Uuuggghhhhhhh," Michelangelo groaned as he flopped down onto the bed beside Nick, and stared dazedly at the ceiling. "I swear to God, I have never been so tired in my _life_. Anyone who thinks ninjitsu is a challenge has never been a parent. I'm too tired to brush my teeth. I'm too tired to go pee. I'm too tired to pull the covers up. I'm too tired to scratch my nose. Heck, I'm too tired to wiggle my big toe. I just wanna close my eyes and go to sleep for a zillion years and never ever do anything ever again."

Nick rolled over with a smile and ran his fingertips up over the taut muscle of Michelangelo's thigh, his lidded eyes smouldering.

"Wanna fool around?"

Michelangelo's eyes snapped open and he grinned up at his husband, flinging his arms around his neck. "Ah, I can sleep when I'm dead."

**tender**

"Hey babe," Michelangelo pushed the door open and tramped wearily into the apartment, two steaming pizza boxes clasped in his hands. "Oh boy, today was a very special kind of torture. Your bro could give the Marquis de Sade a run for his money. I just picked us up a couple of pies," he continued to chatter as he dumped his keys on the hallstand and ambled into the living room. "Thought we could just watch a movie - hey I think Fast n Furious 15 is out on Netflix - " he came to an abrupt halt as he beheld the sight that greeted him.

Niko was sprawled in the recliner, his head thrown back, slack-jawed and snoring. Cradled gently in his arms was their daughter, one chubby cheek mashed against his ample chest, dark lashes curling against her brown skin, her lips softly parted. As Nick breathed deeply, his chest rose and Bianca rose with it.

Michelangelo could only stand and stare for a moment, a goofy smile running up the corners of his mouth, his chest suddenly tight and full.

He quietly placed the pizza boxes on the coffee table and crept over to the recliner. Gently, he smoothed tangled curls back over Nick's head and ran a finger over the curve of Bianca's cheek. Then he bent over and kissed each one of them in turn.


End file.
